Chapter 23 The smell of smoke still hangs in the hallway. I run a hand over my face, mindlessly wiping at the powder dusting my skin for the dozenth time today. Annoyance swells inside my chest, right beside the shooting pain that resides there. The Healers insisted on concealing symptoms, though the dark circles beneath my eyes are not easily hid these days. Especially when my betrothed accidentally kills her nemesis-who happens to be the general's daughter. I've spent most of my night cleaning up Paedyn's mess. And surprisingly, the death of Bitchy Blair saddened me more than I'd anticipated. That was probably insensitive. I'm not sure. My head hurts. I round the corner, drawing a deep breath. It was disheartening, the lack of grief Blair's mother displayed upon learning of her passing. At least General Archer had the decency to excuse himself, hiding his glassy gaze. But thankfully, both seemed relieved by Lenny's quick decision to bury the burned body. The general-because he couldn't bear to see his daughter in such a state-and the expressionless mother-because she did not wish to mourn. For that reason alone, I've allowed the Imperial to remain as such. For now. I stop abruptly in the hall and clutch my chest when that incessant throbbing returns. A coughing fit has me doubling over as I brace a hand against the wall. Every part of me aches, so blindingly that I can't imagine Death making me feel any worse. "You haven't slept." I've summoned her. I straighten, breathing heavy. "Not since you left me in a field, no." She tilts her head at me, like I'm some specimen to be studied. "You have grown more irritable. The Plague is taking its toll." "Dying will have to wait." I cough into my fist and ignore the look of concern from a passing servant. It is easy to forget how my conversations with Death look-like I've gone mad. "I have to speak with my brother." I sigh and continue down the hall. Mara follows. "Who is likely with my betrothed." And it is very likely that only one of them will survive tomorrow. I try not to think about that, though. I am simply doing what needs to be done, what greatness demands. I am not a monster. Beyond each row of windows, the sun slinks shyly toward the horizon, leaving behind a night of long-winded condolences and vile tonics on my tongue. Each step grows heavier than the last. I'm being betrayed by my very body, and Death is witnessing my demise. "Are you going to tell him?" Mara asks. I glance over at her. "Tell Kai what?" "That you are dying." I look away, my heart now pounding harder than my head. "He deserves to know," she adds evenly. "Not yet," I say too quickly. "I'm... I'm not ready." Mara says nothing more on our short journey-she doesn't need to. Her previous words are damning enough. And when I come to a stop before my beloved brother's door, I realize that I have never feared Death, only the imminent likelihood of losing my brother to Life. "Are you going inside?" Mara's gaze is heavy. I look down to find my hand hovering over the doorknob. Hazily, I nod and turn the handle. Kai stands before a battered bedpost, a sword in hand. It is comforting to know that some things never change. "Oh, good," I say at the sight of him. "You're awake." His room is familiar, but I step tentatively inside. When we were boys, and a harsh storm rattled the windows, we would slide beneath the bed and eat whatever sweets we had swiped from the kitchen. Now those memories feel so delicate. Kai raises the blade in his hand. "Just blowing off some steam." Death pads into the room, where she examines the chipped bedpost further, then stares pointedly at the wardrobe behind the brothers. "Right." My mind is drifting again. It has been doing that of late, mostly without warning. What if he hates me for this? What if I fail, and everything I've done is for nothing? What if he chooses her? Words begin falling from my numb lips. "Well, I just wanted to stop in and let you know that the third Trial will be taking place tomorrow." The look of surprise he dons is... unsurprising. My head hurts. "Tomorrow?" he asks. "You're not announcing it to the court?" I swipe a palm across the back of my neck. Father used to do the same thing. But I don't want to be like him. Am I like him? "It's meant to be... unexpected," I manage. "For Paedyn, at least. It will take place in the Bowl." "I see." Kai is watching me closely. So is Death. She stands beside him. They wear a similar expression, like the look of pity that something pathetically fragile earns. I am not fragile-not like Father said. I will be everything he thought I couldn't be- "Kitt, are you all right?" "Hmm?" I intend to focus my gaze on Kai, but it falls to Mara instead. She now stands behind him, having begun to circle my Enforcer. Her voice is steady. "Tell him, Kitt." "No. No, not yet. It's not time...," I find myself murmuring back. "... I need the right time...." Kai takes a slow step toward me after glancing over his shoulder. "What? Kitt, is everything okay?" The concern in his voice urges me to wrangle my muddled thoughts. That constant din inside my skull suddenly quiets. I blink. Even smile. "Yes, no need to worry. It seems I need some more sleep." Then I think about that final Trial, and my worry returns. "Just... just trust me. I have everything under control." My brother nods without hesitation. "Of course. I trust you with my life." A slightly ironic choice of words, considering tomorrow's events. I fail to swallow my cough, so I follow it with a bright smile. "I've never doubted that about you." Mara trails me to the door. My thoughts begin to diffuse, and still, I know one thing. "You and me, Brother." "You and me." I step out into the hall with Death on my heels. If she bothered displaying any emotion, I imagine it would be concern, just like everyone else who lays eyes on me. For that reason, her stoicism is a relief. "I didn't have the chance to teach you how to die," she says simply as we stride through the shadowy hallway. "We were interrupted." "Right..." It has grown rather difficult to focus. "You didn't." Mara stops abruptly, so I do the same. "Perhaps when you are better prepared," she ventures, "you will be able to tell your brother." Unlikely. "Okay," I appease. "Show me how to die." A flicker of some unreadable emotion softens her features. "I will." She extends a hand. It is small, her palm uncalloused. Death is terrifyingly unassuming. A bit apprehensively, I place my much larger hand in hers. "This might feel a bit uncomfortable," she says absentmindedly. "Like your stomach dropping." "What-?" Before I can even protest, it's happening, precisely as she said. The ground is sinking beneath my feet, and my stomach is plunging with it. I feel tugged in two directions, maybe two dimensions, before my feet collide with solid ground. Cool air caresses my cheeks; darkness greets my gaze. "What..." I swallow, feeling slightly sick-well, more so than usual. "What the hell was that?" "I didn't think you would want to walk all the way to Loot." Mara strides casually into the darkness my eyes now slowly adjust to. I'm suddenly standing on the edge of a run-down street in the slums, blinking in disbelief. "How did we get here?" Death turns in the center of this quiet street. "We stepped between different points on this plane." She says this like one might when commenting on the weather. "I focused the little power I possess in this realm and brought you with me." I look up at the night sky where a ceiling resided mere moments before. Then my gaze is back on the embodiment of Death, standing so comfortably in a puddle of moonlight. "You mentioned your power before-in the gardens." I step before her. Strangely, I feel my best when we are alone. "What are you capable of, Mara?" The corners of her lips twitch, surprising me. "Everything." I raise my brows at her. "Everything?" "Nothing I can do is unfamiliar to you." She says this like I'm supposed to understand. "So, where did all your power come from?" I ask, attempting a different question. "The Mors." Mara taps her foot against the ground, softly. "It supplies me with anything I need. So when I am parted from it, my power is limited." "But," I start slowly, "where did the Mors obtain such strength?" Death stares at me, subtly intrigued. I think she finds my lack of knowledge comical. "The Mors is all that was, and all that will soon come to pass," she finally says. "Its power is not devised or created. It is infinite." I nod, despite my continued lack of understanding. She turns toward a slatted shack then, pointing to the twining trees beside it. Their gnarled branches curl around one another, chalky in color and brittle in the soft breeze. It's impossible to tell where one trunk begins and the other ends. "This is where Destiny met Fate and Death was born." Mara's voice grows soft. "Where eternity began." Again, I'm not entirely sure I understand. But I get the sense that her riddle wasn't meant wholly for me. "Those look like the trees in the Mors," I say, rather than asking another question she likely won't answer. "Yes." Her gaze grows distant. "They do." A dozen dull taps of her foot pass before she finally looks at me and utters a single word. "Gently." "Gently?" I echo. "That is how to die." I can't help but cough out a laugh. "I thought it was the opposite. Am I not supposed to fight until the very end?" "Most do," she answers evenly. "But a struggling soul is quite pointless. When one's fate is sealed, hope is only a hindrance." "So you truly hope for nothing?" I find myself asking. "Hope is for the living." The strain in her voice saddens me. My connection with Mara may only be due to the imminent demise she will soon drag me to, but it feels real, nonetheless. Like a companion I've searched my whole life for, only to find her in Death. "Then..." I shrug. Shake my head. "I will be your heartbeat." A wave of emotion crashes against Mara's solid mask. "What?" "As of right now, I am still living," I remind her. "So, hope vicariously through me. If it is a heartbeat hope needs, then I will be that for you." She blinks a pair of wide, brown eyes at me. "No one has ever..." Her throat bobs. "Thank you." I smile sadly. "Even Death deserves to hope." "You don't have to go gently," Mara practically blurts. I've never seen someone so softly flustered. "Die how you wish. I will catch you, however you fall from your lifeline." I ponder this. "Is it easier for you? If I do not struggle?" "Infinitely." "Then it is decided." My gaze lifts to the stars above. "I will go gently. For you." When my eyes finally fall back on Death, I almost don't believe what I'm seeing. She is smiling. In a romance-themed observation show, several participants undergo a series of interactions and conflicts filled with love, misunderstandings, and power struggles. In the end, one couple rises to over...